Blue Angels

This past weekend was the Grand Junction air show.  It all started Thursday and Friday when the planes began practicing their acrobatic flights.  We had several opportunities to enjoy watching the jets each afternoon looping and spiraling all over the valley.

On our return trip from Montrose on Sunday, we decided to head over toward Brett's work which is located just south of the airport.  The Blue Angels were scheduled to fly about 3:30 and while we didn't want to go into the actual air show, we were figured that we could see them just fine from there.  After parking the van, we trudged up the bank of the irrigation canal and laid out our picnic blanket there in the midst of several other folks with the same idea.  And then we proceeded to wait.

I have to say that this was the most curious episode with my kids ever.  The girls were in their leotards and everybody was in the dirt.  They picked at rocks, shuffled clumps of dried mud and ground the silt with their hands, feet and sometimes hinnies.  Brett and I gave up asking them not to get dirty or dusty, we were just glad that they were not whining or moaning to loudly.  They were impatient and grumbly, but we knew that the wait would pay off.  Several times Brett and I reiterated, "You will be impressed by the planes and your patience will be worth it."  To which they would mumble and moan.

And then the Blue Angels took off and they started "wowing" and "zowing"!  It was an incredible show - loud, exciting and awe-inspiring.  They clapped and cheered as the planes flew over us in tight formation.  And I marveled again at close their wing tips were.  I can't even ride on a bike that close to anybody else!

As anticipated, the Blue Angels were the "bests" of each of their days and the dusty wait was forgotten.

This wasn't the first time we'd seen the Blue Angels in action ...

Prior to moving to the house we currently live in, we had lived closer to the airport and consequently, we had the opportunity to see up close the acrobatics of the Blue Angel jets.  I remember vividly sitting on our front porch with little Aaron and Norah as they tried to point at the jets and keep their ears covered with their pudgy little hands at the same time.

A few years passed and the weekend for the air show rolled around again.  We had since moved across town and I figured we wouldn't see much from our new neighborhood.  One particular afternoon the Blue Angels were once again practicing their maneuvers and we could see the loops and lines of the jet streams in the blue sky as the pilots performed their acrobatics, but it was difficult to see the actual planes.  Ashley and I were sitting out in the front lawn trying to catch sight of the jets as they shot overhead and Ashley was asking questions about the mysterious roaring she was hearing.

Drawing from my non-military expertise, I tried to describe the jets and how they would fly side-by-side in formation, making loops and spirals in the air.  She sucked her thumb and nodded, but she still did not have the context for what I was describing for her.  To her three-year old mind, a plane was a big thing that people rode on to get to Grandma's house.

And then suddenly it was all perfectly clear for her.

We felt the rumbling first, a persistent vibration in the concrete step we were perched on.  Then the roar grew and suddenly right over our culdesac flew a jet!  He was so low we could have waved to him and seen him wave back.  Time seemed to freeze as we watched him fly by.  All Ashley and I could do was sit their with our jaws slack staring up at the belly of the plane as he cruised over.  Then we yelled and cheered and clapped our hands ... for our own personal air show!

small things {tidbits)

small things #62 ... tidbits

Before Ashley's first day as a first grader, Aaron and Norah shared a few helpful tidbits with her.  Little nuggets of wisdom that they wish they'd know when started all-day school.

"Be prepared for other kids to ask you, 'What's your name again?', repeatedly." ~ Aaron

"Be sure to take your lunch with you when you leave for recess and you can put it agains the wall." ~ Norah

Listening to them share their pointers with their baby sister brought back to my mind an experience that Aaron had in the first grade.  An experience that was 100% avoidable and yet endured 100%.

---

During the first few days of Aaron's first grade year, he brought home his lunch bag and more often than not, it was filled with used napkins and half-eaten sandwiches.  Being a good mom, I carefully picked these yucky bits out and threw them in the trash, rinsed his lunch bag and set it aside for the next day.

The next afternoon rolled around and this time there was a crumpled napkin, a slimy baggie and a partially eaten apple.  Yuck.

"Hey, buddy.  Can you please throw your trash away?  You don't need to bring it home."

"Okay, Mom."

"Thanks."

The next day I unzipped his lunch bag to find the same miserable mess complete with peanut butter smeared on the inside lid.  Ugh.

"Dude.  I need you to please throw your trash away.  When you are done eating, please throw out all the left-over food and the napkin.  Just bring home any silverware I send and plastic dishes.  Okay?"

"Okay."

The following day, I opened his bag and stepped back in horror!  Not only was there a wadded up napkin, but also a crust of sandwich floating in a sea of warm and slimy yogurt.  The foil lid was pinched over the top of the yogurt cup, but that had not stopped the flow of sour creaminess to coat the entire inside of the lunch bag.  Gag.

"Aaron!  Come here, please!"

I still remember the look on his face while I gruffly told him once more that I needed him to throw away his trash.  I used wonderful words like, "disgusting", "nasty", "rotten" and "awfulness."  I wrapped up this wonderful mothering moment with my jaw clenched as I growled, "Throw. Out. Your. Trash."

At this precise moment, my Aaron-Boy burst into tears and wailed, "I don't know where the trash can is!"

---

.....sigh.....

In light of this teachable moment gone wrong, I turned to my sweet Ashley at the kitchen table and added my two bits, "Please be sure to throw out your trash from your lunch and ask a teacher if you don't know where the trash cans are."

Tidbits ... little bits of instruction that seem so small but in reality they protect us from BIG problems!

small things {sweet memories}

small things #6 ... sweet memories

Driving up to school, we pass any number of popcorn trees.  Each pink and white tree prompts Lydia to delightedly point out each one.

"There's a popcorn tree, Mom!  And another one!  And a pink one!  Look, Norah!"

Over the weekend, however, those blossomy bouquets have begun to give way to green buds, bursting into leafiness.  Which, of course, prompted the question, "Why?"

"Well ... each of those little blossoms is the start of a something else.  Some will turn into apples, some into plums and and some into cherries."

"Oh, yum!  I remember we had a cherry tree at our old house."

"You're right, Buddy.  And every spring we would fill every bowl and bucket in the house with cherries."

"Remember that picture of me with cherry juice all over my chin?"

A crimson memory prompted to life:  Bright red cherries, ripe and ready, hanging precariously on the loaded down branches.  A feast for the birds ... and the little boys that lived there.

Sweet memories ... of cherry picking parties and pink, kissable grins.

Time-Warp ~ Help!

A number of years ago, I made this little slideshow for our MOPS group.  I love these little snapshots of my babies when they were, uh ... babies.




As I watch this again, the overwhelming feelings of needing help in the midst of this mothering gig come back in waves.  And chills.  And cold sweats.

Oh, wait.  Maybe that's because while the demands and challenges of mothering change as our kids get older, there are still demands and challenges.  And a lot of toe nails to trim.

If I were to produce a remix of this video, much would be the same.  But I'd have to add ...

Help me with my homework.


Drive me to school.


Take me to gymnastics.


Soothe my tender feelings.


Braid my hair.


Unknot my shoe laces.


Hug me ... but not in front of my buddies.


And you?  What would would be scribbled on your white board?

Time-Warp Wednesday ~ One Inch

I know a little boy.

He used to be just this big:

On the first day back from Christmas break last Wednesday, he asked me to measure him.

"Mom.  I had like five people ask me today if I'd grown over break.  Did I?"

"Uhm.  I don't know.  We measured you just a month ago.  We can check.

Oh.  My.  Golly.  No way!"

"What?"

"Are you spoofing me?  Get your feet against the wall, Buddy."

"Ha, ha!  They are.  They are."

"Oh, brother.  Yeah ... you grew an inch.  An entire inch!"

"Cool."

"Yeah.  Cool.  Now I know where all the groceries have been going."

The next day as he trudged across the school lawn, back pack loaded on his shoulders, I could tell where he had grown.  His bright white ankle socks shining in the morning sunlight gave evidence that it's his legs that grew that inch.

My prayer for Aaron today ~

May he be like the prophet Samuel ... 

And the boy Samuel continued to grow in stature 

and in favor with the LORD and with people. 

(1 Samuel 2:26)

And may he not eat us out of house and home.  

And may we find pants in his drawer that will fit him.

Time-Warp Wednesday

Last Wednesday, I warped back to Aaron's Halloween as an alligator.  And a had a good giggle again remembering how he bumped and jumped out of his costume until he was just a kid in a onesie.  Classic.

This week while grocery shopping, I was surprised to find that the Halloween items were all 70% off and squished to one side in order to make room for ... 

No, not Veteran's Day ...

No, not Thanksgiving ...

Christmas!

Already!?!

How is it that we can go directly from October 31st to December 25th, while leaping right over the entire month of November?!?

Maybe Norah had something to do with this.  For her third Halloween, she ushered in Christmas in record time with her unexpected request to be ...

No, not an elf ...

No, not Mrs. Claus ...

The big guy himself, Santa!

She cracks me up!  

With faux-fur cuffs (made from white felt) stitched to Aaron's fireman jacket, matching cuffs stitched to a pair of red pants from Good Will and a triangle of silky, curly, furry fabric tacked inside her Santa cap for a beard she was ready to, "Ho, Ho, Ho!" her way through Halloween.

Just one more example of Norah thinking (and playing) outside the box! 

Time-Warp Wednesday

As we slooooowly made our way through our church's Harvest Fest on Halloween night, I surrounded by  ...
children (mine and others) running from booth to booth fueled purely on M-n-M's, Tootsie Rolls and lollipops,
the repetitive pop! Pop! POP! of the "dynamite" balloons,
the ever-pervading smell of popcorn,
the CLANG! of the bell on the "show me your muscles" hammer drop,
little princesses and ninjas with helium balloons tied to their wrists (all the better for their parents to find them in the hub-bub),
shrieks and squeals of happy (and not so happy) trick-or-treaters,
and an overwhelming memory of a Harvest Fest from Halloween past.

I told this story to Norah as we stood together near the bump-n-jump ...

Our Nuna-Girl was due on Halloween eight years ago.  She didn't want to miss out on the fun, however, so she came early.  Her arrival on October 22, meant that our new family of four got to enjoy Harvest Fest together.  Sorta.


I spent most of my evening, as I recall, at a table up on the stage nursing our little pumpkin.  From my vantage point, I watched Brett walk from booth to booth with Aaron, our alligator:

Here he is with cousin Rebekah ... the cheerleader.

I thought that costume was so cute!  His green satiny tail had little pokeys on it and his scales were all fluffy.  Also it was warm which was perfect for a chilly Halloween night.  That is, of course, unless you spend the night indoors.  In that case, it gets pretty hot.  Sweaty hot.  Damp red curls hot.

Brett, being a wise Daddy, freed his little guy from the alligator hoody and sent him off to the next booth.  That meant that the next person who passed by, of course, wondered what the little boy in the white onesie and green pants was supposed to be.  Use your imagination.

Within a few moments of being set free, Aaron made a bee-line for the bump-n-jump and it was at that moment that he experienced yet another wardrobe malfunction.  As he bumped and jumped, he jumped and bumped right out of his pants.  It didn't bother him at all.  He just kept bumpin' and jumpin'!

"Yep.  That's my little guy in there ... the one in just his onesie.  What's he supposed to be?  Oh, an alligator, of course."

In the end, our little gator managed to bring in quite the haul ... more candy than we knew what to do with.  He was successful in his efforts as a trick-or-treater, even if his costume was more of a hinderance than a help.

¹ Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses (fellow trick-or-treaters), let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin (costumes) that so easily entangles. And let us run (bounce) with perseverance the race (evening) marked out for us. (Hebrews 12:1, examples mine)

I hope that Aaron will live a life in which he doesn't allow the problems of the world to keep him from his goal.  I hope that he'll cast off all the snaggy and ill-fitting parts of life ... and keep his eyes fixed on Jesus.  Even in the face of costume catastrophes!

Time-Warp Wednesday

There is no doubt in my mind that my kids will surpass me in technological savviness.

Probably tomorrow.

Even now, if I am having trouble with the Wii or one of the many shiny black boxes sitting below the TV, Aaron is able to get me out of trouble with the push of just a few buttons.  I try not to get too terribly miffed when he tells me, "You just need to synch it, Mom," ... and he's right.

I may still be able to navigate around Pages better than him and I definitely can type faster than his hunt and peck strategy, but even those days are numbered.  Before I know it, he'll be telling me about nifty shortcuts while I plod along formatting our MOPS newsletter.  I hope that I can accept his help with finesse and graciousness ... but it will still probably sting a bit.  "You just need to use command ⊄≈☃☺, Mom," ... sigh ....

Recently I came across a snapshot from several years ago that proved that he's always been on the cutting edge of technology.  And also willing to share his knowledge and expertise with others.

Basic Computer Programming

I love this!  Aaron and Norah perched on the same chair, working side by side on the computer.  What you can't see in this snapshot is that the computer was on a desk we assembled in a closet.  There was just enough room for one chair, hence the cheek-to-cheek technique!  (That's one way to make a 2.5 bedroom house seem just a little bigger.)

Not only does it touch my heart that they were happily clicking and coloring together, but I can vividly remember Aaron's words to Norah.

"You need to click on the bucket.  Then click on the color.  On the red one.  The red one.  No, that's blue.  Move the mouse a little bit.  I'll help you.  There.  You got the red one.  Good job, Nuna!"

Let me zoom in on his helper hand:

Press the green star, Sweetie.

I love listening to and seeing my kids being helpful and encouraging to one another.  A sweet blessing to this mommy's heart and ears!

May we all be generous in lending a hand ... and gracious in accepting the help!

Now ... what's the shortcut for publishing this post?  Aaron!.....

Time-Warp Wednesday

Being a parent is a lot of work.  I know, I know ... that is not news to you.  But sometimes the work of parenting overlaps with the joy of parenting.  The love of parenting.  The fun of parenting.

Even when we carve out time for a family vacation, that treat of a little rest and relaxation is hemmed in on every side with the demands of parenting.  Just because we are out of town doesn't mean that we are out of our role of being the boss.  We might have run away for a quick break, but we can't run away from the responsibility of continuing to train up our kids.

No matter how dearly you would like to temporarily hang up your Mom-Hat, those kids over there still belong to you.  Yep ... those little crazy kids trying to bury their sister in the sand ... they are yours.  We don't really get a vacation from parenting because it's a full-time job.  You invest yourself into your brood 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 52 weeks a year.

But sometimes, God might surprise you with a little break ...

We took advantage of the long Labor Day weekend to take a mini-vacation over to Denver.  Our principle reasons for this trip were to see Gramps & Grammy, enjoy a change of scene and take in Les Mis.  All of us had been anticipating this trip for months.

We were prepared mentally to be in full-parenting-mode.  When you travel as a herd, you are bound to find yourself in more than one occasion having to be the Alpha-Animal.  We want to enjoy our kids and we have found that if we keep up the usual routines and expectations, everybody has more fun.

But sometimes you have to shake things up.

On Saturday, Gramps and Grammy suggested we take the pack down to the zoo.  Seeing as Brett and I had envisioned staying home and staying busy, this prospect of taking a family safari trip (and really wearing out our little beasts in the process) was a fantastic idea.  Little did we know what a terrific day was in store!

The weather was fantastic!  After enduring the desert high 90's for most of the month, we reveled in the cool breeze with the temperature in the mid-80's.  We got to be outside and not dripping with sweat.  That was a win!  The kids actually suffered a few bouts with goose-bumps during lunch and had to move to the sun.  Poor babies!

The animals were animated!  Oftentimes our experience at the zoo is walking from exhibit to exhibit, peering through the fences and trying to count how many tigers are laying in that far-off pile of striped fur.  Or perhaps reading the signs on the exhibit walls which explain that due to the soaring temperatures, the polar bears/hippos/rhinos/lions/tigers/bears (oh my!) are all staying indoors where it's cool.  This time, however, we watched as the snow leopards batted and battled for the plastic ball in their cage - they frolicked like any ordinary pair of house cats.  We stood for 15 minutes watching spider monkeys scamper through the tree tops.  We laughed at their antics as they hung from their feet and tails, peering into the food baskets and lounged on the tree limbs.  We marveled at the appetite of the giant turtle as the zoo keeper skewered whole chicken breasts and fed the aquatic beast.  We giggled as the baby orangutang practiced her climbing skills and her momma hid under a white sheet. (I could completely relate to that poor mommy!)  It was the most interesting trip to the zoo I've ever had!

The kids had fun!  We were amazed at how well our kids did.  And for how long they kept having fun.  We had anticipated leaving shortly after lunch, but actually found ourselves leaving closer to dinner time.  We were prepared to adhere to our nap schedules, but found that we didn't want to interrupt the day's fun!  This was a refreshing change for us as a family - not having to squeeze a day's events into a 4-hour time period.  It also gave us a taste of what the post-nap-era might be like ... and it was good!

I do have a Time-Warp snapshot to share with you and it's not from this past weekend.  It's from Christmas of 2005.  In reminiscing about past zoo trips, this is one of the most memorable.

The Denver Zoo celebrates Christmas, too, by decorating the exhibits (not the animals) with twinkling lights.  They extend their hours into the evening and families come out in droves to see the animals and decorations.  We went that year with Aaron (age 3 1/2) and Norah (age 2) and Gramps & Grammy.

I believe Ashley was also along for this trip
... she's the bump under my winter coat.

This trip was a bit more work for obvious reasons (their ages) and another surprise reason (everyone looks the same in a winter hat and coat).  It was fun to see the lights and decorations, but it was alarming to see so many little people wearing red or pink coats.  I'm just glad that when we got back in the van, the two little kids under those winter caps were mine!

That is not a real giraffe. :)

Time-Warp Wednesday

Coordinated clothing?  Check.

Recently bathed?  Check.

Hair combed, curled, clipped and gooped?  Check. Check. Check. And check.

Fully snacked?  Check.

Coupon in hand?  Check.

Ready to smile?  I sure hope so!

As we headed out for our portrait sitting yesterday, I covered as many bases as humanly possible and hoped for the best.  And we ended up with some terrific snapshots!

I look forward to sharing my favorites with you soon, but this is a Time-Warp post which means that we need to take a trip back a bit.  About nine years, to be exact.

As I watched my Aaron-Boy smile and pose for the camera - showing off his great hair and flashing his fabulous smile - I experienced a quick time travel trip.  I was transported both forward to his senior year and backward to his first portrait sitting ... and my heart hurt a bit.  

This is dangerous business for me to reminisce the past and contemplate the future simultaneously.  Never mind the risk I took of being splinched.
(Award yourself 10 points if you shuddered appropriately!)

His casual stance and easy smile was so grown up.  I could see him nine years from now, smiling into the camera with such poise.  And the result will make girls giggle and swoon ... embarrassing him to death!  He is so handsome on the outside with a beautiful heart on the inside.

But I could also see him nine years ago ... my baby boy, smiling readily and wooing the photographer.  The only difference was his size.  And his baldness and toothlessness, of course.  He was a deliciously chubby and cheerful little fellow!

You can't help but smile along with this little person!  Whatever his age or size!

I am loving who my Aaron-boy is growing into.  We are watching him navigate this challenging course of being an almost double-digit boy and he's handling it wonderfully.  Of course, we have moments of rough sailing and sometimes his ship is in need of a little attention (sinking in dirty clothes and Lego pieces while the captain is absorbed with Tap Zoo), but we are excited to see the ways he is maturing and growing in wisdom.

I'm not ready for him to be a Senior in high school and I'm immensely grateful that I have nine more wonderful years to enjoy him here at home, but if the next nine years zoom by at the same speed as the last nine ... I'm in trouble!

Here's to capturing as many of Aaron's wonderful grins as I can and enjoying this sailing voyage on the way to his being a grown-up wise guy!

With plenty of prayers along the way ...

¹ My child, never forget the things I have taught you.

 Store my commands in your heart. 

² If you do this, you will live many years,

and your life will be satisfying. 

³ Never let loyalty and kindness leave you!

Tie them around your neck as a reminder.

Write them deep within your heart.

Proverbs 3:1-3

Time-Warp Wednesday

A few minutes ago, when I was half-carrying, half-dragging my little two-year old upstairs for her nap, I found a little treasure.  Right at the top of the stairs leading to the living room (right about the spot where Liddy collapsed in a puddle, rolled over on her back and screamed, "Hode Me!") there is a lovely, drippy, smeary smudge of cherry juice.  It's a terrific shade of burgundy and it stands out nicely against the butter-yellow wall.

Actually it seems to shout, "Someone snitched a cherry!  And squished it right here!"

I'll give you just a few clues as to who that little culprit might be:  She's short, she's dark haired and she was recently half-carried, half-drug upstairs for a nap.

This dripping, crimson splotch is evidence of a well-known occurrence taking place in our house right now.  I call it the "Me Do" phenomena.  And it would appear to be genetic.

My grandparents (who faithfully read my posts here ... I love that!) would be quick to tell you about how I, at the tender age of 2, would toddle around, exploring the world, and declare, "me do!" to anyone who tried to help me with my shoes, blowing bubbles, eating breakfast or feeding the dog.

"Me do, me do, me do!"

Right now, Lydia is a full-fledged "Me-doer".  Hence the cherry juice at the top of the stairs.

In itty-bitty Liddy's budding independence she is now fully capable of putting on her fop-dops (flip-flops), pouring her own cereal, changing her clothes, getting ice and water from the refrigerator, giving Gimli his breakfast and getting her own snacks (see cherry sploosh above) ... to name a few of her favorite tasks.  She is also aching to be able to wash her own hair (too many eye-burning bubbles), ride her own bike (too short of legs) and pour her own milk (too much to mop up).

Which brings me to today's snapshot flashback ...

Another little two and one-half year old and the unfortunate results of them independently getting themselves a snack.

Oops.

In the picture you can see sweet Ashley in the midst of a "Me Do" gone horribly, drippily wrong.  I actually remember quite vividly running from my room to the kitchen at the sound of the hysterical screams piercing the air.  I then remember, equally vividly, running back out of the kitchen to find the camera.

She was only attempting to pour herself a bit of milk following her nap.  And much to her horror, the milk just kept on coming!  For your own information, that is what approximately what half a gallon of milk looks like when it misses the cup, pours off the table and spreads across the floor.  I love that she's still clutching the empty yellow cup and is simply staring at the puddle.  What you can't hear are the sobs and sniffles from her failed attempt at independence.

So ... seeing as this is the sort of "Me Do" messes we have experienced in our house in the past, cherry juice rubbed into the stairwell wall is really no big deal.  I guess.

Swim, Little Fishy, Swim

Yesterday I came home from my early morning walk to find my three girls already in their swimsuits.

"We're ready, Mom!"

"Oh my ... you do realize that swim lessons don't start for another ... uh, three hours.  Right?"

"Yep!  We're just so excited!"

So I can see ...


In spite of our three hour pre-swim lesson prep-time, we were still just a mere five minutes early to the pool.  I am quite certain that there is a time vortex located somewhere in the vicinity of the door leading out to the garage.  Without fail, I am regularly proactive about leaving with 10 minutes to spare only to find myself backing out of the garage 15 minutes behind schedule!  How does that happen?!?

Anyway, as we walked across the pool deck, shucking shoes off as we went along, retrieving said shoes when Mommy asked, "Where are your shoes?" and high-fiving cousins, I had a few mini-flashbacks to previous swim lessons ...

Mom and Tot classes with Aaron when he was just a year old.  Lumbering out in my maternity swimsuit with my little tyke propped on my hip/belly.  He was happy to be in the water, motor-boating around.  I was happy to be in the water with front row seats to watching my little guy learning to blow bubbles.  My hips were happy to be in the water for the sheer relief of 30 minutes of weightlessness.

Little shivering Norah in her first independent swim lesson.  Sorta independent.  I remember shaking my head as I watched my tiny land lubber sit on the side of the pool and attach herself to her teacher's hip.  She was still dry from the waist up after every class.  I don't remember paying extra for the sherpa-version swim lesson, but I probably should have tipped the teacher.

Tiny Ashley tippy-toeing her way across the pool.  She was diligently making "ice cream scoops" with her hands.  As she climbed up on the side of the pool, I could tell from across the way that she was freezing.  Her little body was shaking violently, shivering from the top of her little pony-tail down to her itty-bitty pinky toe.  I was tempted to rescue her early, wrapping her up in a warm, dry towel.  I'm glad I didn't ... her radiant, "did you see me??" smile warmed her up as she walked along the deck at the end of class.

And now, here we are again.  Another year, another teacher, another splash.  The difference this year is that there are four Kellum kids suited up.  Even little Lydia is sunscreened, suited and ready to swim!

As my purple-suited little mermaid tiptoed her way to the water, I admit to being a little worried.

Would she get in the pool on her own?


Would she listen to the teacher?


Would she follow the other kids in the activities?


Would she have fun?

Yes, yes, yes and YES!

Thanks to cousin Mallory, Lydia had someone to hold her hand as she walked down the steps to the pool.  She stayed close to the teacher and participated in all the activities:  laying on her back, kicking her legs, bobbing up and down and doing her "ice cream scoops".  And the smile on her face as she sat on the side of the pool and kicked huge splashes with her pudgy little feet was proof that she was having a great time!

While I was happy to see my little fish so thrilled to be in her lesson, it was a little bittersweet.  A little poignant, perhaps. We have been participating in swim lessons since each of our little people were babies.  But there is something about the baby starting her lessons.  Does that make sense?

She's the last one.  The last one in her first swim lesson.  The last one to wonder, "How will she do?"  The last one to discover the wonder of blowing bubbles in the water.  The last one to celebrate her first front float.  The last one to explore the wonder of being underwater.

It's yet another season of change for my baby.  Isn't there something in Ecclesiastes 3 about that ... a time for everything under the sun, a time to cautiously tickle your toes in the shallow end, a time to jump with great gusto into the deep?  No ... maybe not.  But that passage is chock full of other seasons of change and growth, so I'm sure it could fit in there! :)

To all the other kids, swim lessons yesterday were a bit "old hat".  Aaron is a Barracuda and he swam the length of the pool three times and learned the basics of treading water.  Norah is an Angelfish and she excitedly told me of her adventures of doing eight cannonballs and bobbing forty times.  Ashley is a Jellyfish and smiled radiantly, again, as she informed me that they, "spent the WHOLE time in the super deep water!"

And Lydia, my little Guppie, is well on her way to being a fish like her siblings.  I just hope she doesn't feel the need to jump off into the deep end too quickly.  I need my little fishy to stay little just a bit longer.  Preferably in the shallow pool. :)

Of course, with all the kids participating in the lessons, this meant I had 40 minutes to enjoy kid-free ... I could certainly get used to that!  Just so long as they all decide to swim back to me when they're done. :)

I Think You Underestimate My Sneakiness

I posted this little escapade a few months ago, but seeing as it's a story that we tell again and again, I figured you wouldn't mind.  That and the fact that one of this week's prompts for Mama Kat was about a time "you crawled through a window".  Makes for an easy day's work for me!

(Easy day of writing, of course.  I still have four little monkeys to keep up with and I'm currently on day four of The Summer House Purge of 2011!  Stay tuned for the yard sale of the century soon!)

Let me set the scene for you ...

My family had taken a trip to Fort Collins, Colorado for a swim meet.  I don't remember much of the meet because I was there purely as a cheerleader.  I don't even remember cheering, but I do have a vague memory of sitting on a hard metal bleacher seat for several hours.  But it was for my sissy, so it was worth it, I'm sure.

We had some time after the meet to go miniature golfing and have dinner ... then the sneakiness began.  My parents had made arrangements for us to stay the night at a friend's house.  Actually, I think "friend" is probably a generous word ... more likely an acquaintance or fellow employee.  I'm not certain of the relationship between us and the home owners, but I'm quite certain that there had been limited verbal arrangements made prior to our stay.  Hence the need to be sneaky-sneaky.

Upon arriving at the house that evening, we found the doors locked.  All of them.  Hmmm ... that wasn't very helpful.  Following this unfortunate discovery, there ensued a rather lively discussion about our puzzling sleeping arrangements.  It didn't look good.

During this time, it was discovered that there was one window that was open a crack.  With a little work, we might be able to push it open far enough to climb through.  The problem was the height of the window.  Who could we lift high enough to shimmy through that opening?  Who, oh who?  Commence the sneakiness:

I couldn't find the "half in/half out" snapshot.
Honestly.

With just a little bit of wiggling and giggling, I was able to balance precariously on an up-ended cooler, hoist myself (with a bit of help from those down below) and shimmy my way through the window and into the bathtub.  Ta-dah!

Because of my cat-like skills, I made it possible for my family to sleep in a house instead of the car.  You're very welcome.

So ... there you have it.  After that, no one in my family underestimated my sneakiness.

(*Please go watch, "Mr. Deeds" and see for yourself what true sneakiness looks like.)

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Prompt #1 from

Time-Warp Wednesday

This past Monday, I posted a photo from our wedding.  Two little love birds leaving the church amid bubble-blowing family and friends ... such a sweet memory!  It has been fun this week to reminisce with the kids about our ceremony (after watching our video, Norah remarked that it was "too long...") and our reception (Mommy stuffed the cake first?!?) and a few snapshots of our honeymoon (pictures of Daddy "when he was a little boy" ~Ashley).

Just so you can see just how much we have changed/grown/expanded/matured, here are a few fun snapshots:

The first is from our honeymoon in Steamboat Springs, Colorado.  This is the bridge in front of Fish Creak Falls.  One morning, we packed a lunch and drove up to the falls for a picnic and a little exercise.  Another visitor to the bridge offered to take our picture.  So young ... and it was just the two of us!  Who knew that we would end up living on my side of the state?  Who knew we'd be horribly out-numbered by our children someday?  Who knew Brett would still have that shirt? :)

The next photo is from our family reunion last summer.  Just a mere 12 years later and a lot has changed!  For one thing, Brett is sporting a goatee and I have glasses now.  But that's not the most obvious development!  The biggest change would be the four little people surrounding/climbing on/hovering around us.  That would be Fish Creek Falls behind us again (from the wall above the bridge) ... and it looks the same as ever, even if we don't!

As you can see, we're still smiling ... because we have a lot to smile about.  Take those kids that are surrounding/climbing on/hovering around us ... they bring us a lot of smiles!  

Oh ... and we still really like each other, so that accounts for a large portion of the smiling, too.

Time-Warp Wednesday

When we left the grocery store today, we had a helper put the groceries in the back of the van while I wrangled the sniffly-nosed, over-done, past-exhaustion, screaming-in-my-ear two year old into her seat.  This left Ashley with the opportunity to inform our helper that she is five and going to school soon.  And that she can write her name.

As you can tell ... Ashley is over the moon with the promise of going to Kindergarten next year!  We filled out her enrollment packet this the weekend and she has carried around and "studied" her parent packet on multiple occasions.  She wanted to sit down and read through it with me (riveting stuff in there, I tell you!) and then check out the pages in the back that had the alphabet and the pages she could use to practice writing.  Never mind the fact that she can already write all her letters and sound out all her letters.  I guess it's just different when the "teacher-lady" is asking you to practice!

I am equally excited for my big girl to become a school girl, but part of my brain just can't wrap itself around the prospect of her being gone part of the day next year ... daily.  She has little play-dates here and there and it's a nice break for Mommy, but ... every day?  Off being independent?  Not needing her Mommy?  Learning things that I'm not teaching?  That's going to be weird.  And not just for me.

Little Lydia is in a for a big adjustment, too.  She has never known life without Ashley as her daily playmate.  She is very accustomed to having "Ash-eee" home during the day to play "Spy" or Hulla-baloo or snuggle on the couch and watch a show.  Come August, Liddy is going to have to get used to being home with ... well, me.  I'm certain that we will have a grand time together, but I know that she will miss her buddy.

They are certainly two-peas-in-a-pod.
They sit on the couch, cheek-to-cheek to watch Curious George.
They build pop-bead necklaces a mile long together.
They sit side-by-side at lunch time, sometimes sharing one another's crackers.
They hold hands across the seats in the van or the double stroller.
They argue like crazy over the same baby doll.

They've always been like that ....

One-month old Liddy getting some lovin'
from her two and a half year old  "big" sister.

And I hope they always will. :)

Because I don't know how long I could keep this up:

Mama, the Pack-Mule

When Norah was born, I was filled with great trepidation that it was entirely possible that I would never, ever, ever, ever leave the house again.  It was a complete and utter mystery to me how it would be possible to load up both kids ... and their many bags ... and my purse ... and extra sippy cups ...  and snacks ...  and my sanity ...  and get out of the house.  Period.  I still shudder a bit at the thought.

I pondered how I would be able to go grocery shopping with my two little people (the big boy in the seat and the little peanut in her bucket in the basket) and have any space for even a gallon of milk in the cart.

I was perplexed about how to get two little tykes in and out of the van in bad weather and get to our destination - dry, intact and smiling.

I was practically unnerved thinking about how I would ever get outside to enjoy some exercise again if it meant that I had to carry one little bundle on my chest and push the stroller for the bigger guy.  I guess that would be considered cardio and weight-lifting ... but not very motivating!

I was puzzled ... and a tad bit overwhelmed.

Then came the gift of all gifts!  The gift that had the potential to free me from my home!  The gift that would allow me the ability to go out from those four walls and breath!  The gift that would free me from (most of) my pondering, perplex-nicity and puzzlement!


Drum roll please ........

Thanks you, Gramps & Grammy!

The Double Stroller!

Suddenly I was able to bundle my little peanuts up (even in the middle of December, apparently) and get out of the house!

I actually remember this outing because it was one of the first times I used the stroller.  I had bundled up Aaron and then tortured Norah in to a fleecy body-suit.  After buckling them and piling them up with blankets, we were ready to head out.  You can't see it in this snapshot, but there is a little turquoise pacifier keeping my baby girl happy.  And it was Aaron's job during our walk to pop it back in as necessary ... which was several hundred times during our walk.

Oh, the things we mothers do for a little exercise, fresh air and me-time.

Over the years, we used it for all the kids.  When Aaron got too big, along came Ashley to fill his seat.  Then along came Lydia and Norah got the boot!  I do wish there was an odometer on it ... I can only imagine the miles I covered, trekking here and there with my kids happily cruising along thanks to Mommy's pedestrian power.

Almost eight years later and we still have that wonderful double-stroller.  We still use it almost daily, but now it seems to serve a little bit different purpose.  That of the pack mule.

On sun-shiny days, the little girls and I enjoy walking up to school to pick up the big kids.  At the beginning of the school year, it was a given that both Ashley and Lydia would snuggle into the seats and enjoy the trip up the steep/daunting/heart-pumping/hiney-tightening hill.  With them riding, we could quickly get to school (or as quickly as a panting, sweating, heaving-45-pounds-up-the-hill mommy can) and then if Ashley wanted to walk a bit, she could stroll back down on our way home.

Fast-forward eight months ...


Now we are back to warm weather and we have resurrected our afternoon jaunts.  But now, nobody wants to ride.  At least, not the whole way.  Now Ashley wants to walk ... at least until her legs get tired.  And Lydia wants to walk if Ashley's walking ... at least until Ashley's legs get tired. :)

But, it gets even better.

For Christmas, Ashley received a scooter from Gramps & Grammy (is there a wheeled-theme here??).  Throughout the winter, she lamented that she couldn't ride her scooter, so now that the weather is warm and we are out walking everyday, she chooses to scooter rather than walk. Again ...97.6% of the walk.  The remaining 2.4% of the time, she's in the second seat and her scooter is balanced precariously on the canopy.  Mush, Mama, mush!

Of course, if Ashley's scootering, then Aaron and Norah want to scooter home, too.  That means that I need to pack two extra scooters and two extra helmets.  Thank goodness the double-stroller also has a trunk!

Now add one dog who needs some exercise and a little two-year old who likes to jump out to pick dandelions and we have a three-ringed circus on wheels!

I actually had a fellow mom comment on the parade headed down the hill recently:  three kids on scooters, one two-year old walking the reluctant dog and one mommy with a double-stroller filled with back packs and sweat-shirts.

She said I was brave.

I thought to myself, "Nah ... I'm just happy that at least we were outside ... in the fresh air ... smiling."

I love my double-stroller/pack mule ... and I desperately hope it has a couple more hundred miles in it.  Because I don't want to carry all that stuff!  :)

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Just a reminder to check out "What's for Dinner?" and "Trekking Thru the Bible" ... new additions this week!

Time-Warp Wednesday

My mom has a saying that she uses a lot.  "A singing child is a happy child."  So true.  I love to hear my babies sing, in part because I am almost guaranteed that the child who is singing, is not singing the Blues. :)

No ... in most cases the serenading kid is in his or her own happy, little world - humming quietly or belting out their favorite tune.  And that happy child is not an "I need you" child or a "help me now" child or a "give me your undivided attention" child.  For those few golden minutes, that kiddo is content and peaceful ... and that is music to Mommy's ears!

Right now, Ashley is on a "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" and "ABC" kick.  Which is rather funny considering they are actually the same tune.  As is "Baa-Baa Black Sheep" ... so, I guess that's next.

Lydia doesn't say much, but she does like to sing/hum a bit.  I have found her several times in her room, reading books to her babies and singing her own wordless version of "Jesus Loves Me".  Super sweet!

Norah doesn't sing on her own much, unless there is music on and then she will happily sing along.  Or if she's "playing" High School Musical on the Wii.  Then she'll belt out the songs.  Right on key, I might add.  

We caught Aaron singing in the shower the other day and it brought a smile to Mommy & Daddy's faces ... I think it was Dynamite. :)  He also has discovered 80's music via Pandora ... nothing quite like a 9 year old singing Erasure's "Victim of Love". :)

But, then again, I knew my kids would be singers from the very beginning.  Partly because their Daddy is a wonderful vocalist and partly because we bought them a little-person guitar.  That's when the musicality of our family really took off!

Note that Norah is accompanying her big brother on the bongo/plastic cup.  And he seems to be hitting a high note ... maybe the chorus to "I Will Make You Fishers of Men".  What a sweet little duet!

We still have that little guitar, by the way.  

It's missing all five strings, but the kids still "play" it.

A Roller-Coaster Ride

When I was about nine weeks along with our first baby, I started having cramps.  Not a good sign.  Rather quickly it began to look as though I was going to miscarry.  I remember sitting with my old, faithful book, What to Expect When You're Expecting, and reading the list of "Signs you are Miscarrying".  With each description - bleeding, cramping, back pain - it became more and more clear that we were going to lose our little "Munchkin".

At our "worked-in" appointment, our doctor gently said, "Go home and rest ... there's nothing you can do right now."  Before sending us home, my OB ordered a blood test to check my HCG levels.  If my levels had dropped dramatically, it would be a sure sign that we wouldn't be seeing this pregnancy progress.

Brett headed back to work and I headed home to put my feet up.  And wait.  While waiting, it was crushing to think about all the plans that were in limbo.  As soon as we found out I was pregnant, my mind had begun to dream that little dream about being a mom.  Buying onesies and baby blankets.  Snuggling with my baby in the wee hours of the morning.  Walking around the park with my little one tucked in the stroller.  In just a few short weeks, my mind and heart had filled with the anticipated joys of being a Mommy.  And now ... maybe not.

When the phone rang, I think I already knew what he would say.  My doctor explained that my HCG levels had significantly decreased and he needed me to go to the hospital for a high-tech ultra-sound that would tell us how far along I was in my miscarriage and whether or not a D&C would be necessary.

Devastating words.

I remember being a bit numb as I hung up.  I shed a few tears.  But more than anything, I experienced this strange sense of losing something I never really had.

I scribbled a quick note for Brett (these were our pre-cell phone years) and headed to the hospital.

I vividly remember sitting alone at the admission desk and fumbling around for my insurance card, filling out a lengthly form about my health history and wondering if the lady across the counter knew how my heart was broken.  She was very nice ... but she had no idea how crushing it was to to fill out:  "miscarriage" as my reason for my appointment.  One word ... a little death of my dreams.

As I sat by myself in the waiting room, I tried to steer my mind away from the reason why I was here.  Anything to distract my heart and mind from the reality.  Finally, the nurse called my name and I followed her to the exam room.

As I lay on the exam table, the phone rang in the room.  The technician answered it and said, "Okay, we'll wait."  Great ... more waiting.  In just a few moments, however, the door opened and in walked Brett!

What?!

Somehow, he had come home early, found my note, raced over to the hospital and was directed right to where I needed him.  Holding his hand at that moment was the greatest comfort to me.  It was just what God knew I needed most.  Now I wasn't alone in this terrible loss.

As the technician started the ultra-sound, I looked away from the screen.  Brett held my hand tightly.

And the technician said, "See ... that's your baby's heart beat.  He looks great."

His first snapshot

That's truly when the weeping started.  Huge, body wrenching sobs.

Deep, Mommy tears.

As Brett and I left the ultra-sound office, the secretary handed me the phone.  It was my doctor.

"Wow.  What a roller-coaster ride, huh?  Go home, rest and I'll see you on Monday."

I still don't know what happened or why I had such heavy bleeding ... but God does.  He put His hands around my little "Munchkin" and protected him.  And I'm so grateful that He did.

Me and my Munchkin

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Prompt # 3 ... "A phone call you will never forget"
Or in my case ... three phone calls. :)